


purple silk and smudged kohl

by Bouncey



Series: Gifts and Prompts [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Attempted Seduction, Blow Jobs, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Captain Jaskier, Everyone Is Gay, Eyeliner, Gentle Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt wears harem pants and eyeliner what more do you want from me, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Harem pants, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pirate AU, Pseudo-Captive Geralt, Rope Bondage, Swashbuckler AU, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: Geralt was incredibly nervous. He’d never done anything like this before. He’d been alive for close to seventy years and not once had he considered this a remotely probable situation.Yet here he sat.He had dressed in what was, quite possibly, the most ridiculous outfit he’d ever worn in his life. No matter how odd and silly the costume seemed, he also knew how utterly striking it made him look. This was the result of several calculated choices and decisions. This was his one and only attempt at seducing Jaskier and he’d put effort into it. Quite a bit of effort.(smutty self-indulgent pirate au fic for my birthday. Jaskier's mind gets blown and so does Geralt)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Gifts and Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843594
Comments: 8
Kudos: 204





	purple silk and smudged kohl

**Author's Note:**

> I had 2 edibles today and tomorrow is my birthday so this is my self-indulgent present to myself.
> 
> Enjoy! Lemme know what you think!

Geralt was _incredibly_ nervous. He’d never done anything like this before. He’d been alive for close to seventy years and not once had he considered this a remotely probable situation. 

Yet here he sat.

He had dressed in what was, quite possibly, the most ridiculous outfit he’d ever worn in his life. No matter how odd and silly the costume seemed, he also knew how utterly striking it made him look. This was the result of several calculated choices and decisions. This was his one and only attempt at _seducing_ Jaskier and he’d put _effort_ into it. Quite a bit of effort.

He’d pulled his long white hair into a bun and held it all together by skewering through it with a decorative wooden pin, which he’d hand-carved to look like a gently blooming flower. He’d lined his eyes with kohl to bring out the gold in them and make them seem even bigger than normal. He’d gone ashore at the last port town and gone shopping with some of the gold he earned from taking prizes; he’d been lucky enough to come across a very specific item of clothing. Something he knew Jaskier wouldn’t be able to resist.

Slung low against the V of his hips, clinging to his pale and scarred skin, was a pair of billowy, deep purple silk dancer’s pants. He’d overheard a dignitary refer to them as ‘harem pants’ once and he’d wondered why. Now he sort of understood; there was something inherently sensual about the way they fit and moved and slid against his heated skin. He’d snapped a wide silver cuff around his left bicep just for the look of it. It was the kind of detail he knew his Captain would appreciate. He’d never have to tell anyone about this, anyway. 

This was for Jaskier, and Jaskier alone.

* * *

The Captain bid the night watch good evening and stepped into his dimly lit cabin, ready to snuggle up to Geralt and fall asleep. He wasn’t expecting to walk directly into a strangely sexy fever dream. 

Because he _had_ to be dreaming. The sight before him _could not_ be real. 

Geralt was laying on his side on their small bed, his torso bare except for a plain silver band around his bulging bicep. His hips and legs were draped in a pair of soft-looking silk harem pants in a lovely shade of royal purple. His hair was pinned up and away from his face and his _eyes_. Meletele’s tits those fucking honey-gold eyes with the hazel flecks were _lined_ with _kohl_. He was resting his head against his hand and his elbow was propped up on the bed. His other arm was draped casually across his hip so that his hand hung over his stomach. He looked like an illustration out of _1001 Nights_. 

“Fucking hells, pet. What’s all this?”

“Good evening, Captain.”

“Geralt what uhm- what the _fuck_?”

“Don’t you like it?”

The sudden undercurrent of self-consciousness in Geralt’s voice snapped the Captain back to reality. This _was_ happening. This was actually honest to gods _happening_. He needed to give so many offerings at so many temples on his next circuit of the coast.

“Geralt, my darling, you look amazing. I thought I was being murdered by sirens; that it had to be a dream.”

The witcher blushed a light pink, the only shade his mutations would allow, and lowered his eyes. “You’ve been so kind and since coming aboard I’ve felt so much better about...myself. I can do what I like when I like without fear of prejudice. Your men accept me for who and what I am without fear or disgust. I love you, Jaskier, and I’m proud to be aboard your ship.”

“Oh, _Geralt_ ,” the Captain gasped. He dropped onto the edge of the mattress and hooked his finger beneath Geralt’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “I have loved you since the moment I saw you.”

What had once been a mere spark in the witcher’s chest burst into flame and he grinned. He shoved Jaskier’s shoulder gently. “You big sap.”

“Says you,” Jaskier snorted, gesturing at Geralt’s outfit. The witcher suddenly remembered what he looked like, what his intentions were, and blushed again, even brighter than before. Brighter than he thought physically possible. It felt as if his cheeks would burst into flame at any second. The young pirate practically purred out his next words, “You look absolutely _alluring_.” 

Geralt sat up suddenly and pressed his naked torso against the Captain’s clothed side. Jaskier could feel the witcher’s overheated skin through the thin material of his shirt and a bolt of white-hot arousal shot through his nervous system. It just wasn’t _fair_ how damned _attractive_ his captive witcher was. Barely a captive, at this point. Geralt was an unofficial crew member, really.

The Captain let his eyes linger on Geralt’s barely-parted lips before flicking them up to meet his gaze. “Is this okay?”

“No, Jaskier,” the witcher teased in a fleeting moment of confidence. “I dressed like this and did my hair and makeup so that you’d go straight to sleep without touching me once.”

“Now you’re going to get it,” the pirate growled, rolling his torso up over Geralt’s and forcing the witcher back down against the mattress. One of the Captain’s hands reached to pull the hairpin out, unfurling the witcher’s silvery locks against the linen pillowcase. He raked his hand through it, watching the way it curled slightly at the ends. He whispered gently against the skin of Geralt’s cheek, “Oh, my love. You’re absolutely _enchanting_.”

Geralt had been called many things.

Not nice things, usually. 

Jaskier had called him _pet_ , of course, and _darling_ , _my love, my sweet,_ etc. But not once had he ever been called something as kind and overwhelmingly sweet as _enchanting_. His heart seized in his chest and he surged back up to kiss Jaskier on the mouth. The Captain’s hand quickly moved to cup the back of his head. The pirate’s other hand was braced against the bed near Geralt’s partially-exposed hip. 

Geralt reveled in the feeling of being utterly safe and cared-for. He let the Captain guide the kiss from gentle to bruising, pushing the witcher flat once again. Jaskier straddled his silk-clad hips and Geralt’s hands twisted into the sheets beside the Captain’s knees. The pirate wrapped his long fingers around Geralt’s wrists and guided his arms up over his head. “Alright?”

Geralt nodded.

“Okay. May I bind them?”

Geralt nodded again and felt his face and upper torso flushing with a combination of arousal and _something_ _else_. Something he couldn’t quite place but that felt _endlessly_ good at the back of his ever-busy brain. Jaskier looped a length of heavy rope around his wrists and secured them to his fancy headboard. The sensation was oddly calming and Geralt’s breathing evened out. 

Jaskier noticed but didn’t say anything. He just went on complimenting his darling witcher. “Gods, you’re so lovely. I wish I could draw; then I could keep this moment forever. Alas, I can only write ballads about your beauty and spread them from port to port.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “Please don’t write songs about this night.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the Captain winked. “I don’t like to share my toys. But I _am_ going to write a ballad about how pretty you are with kohl on your eyes.”

“Hmm.”

“Ah, yes. There’s my eloquent witcher. Can I make you talk to me, Geralt?” the pirate mused. He splayed his hands across the witcher’s well-muscled abdomen and let them drift slowly upward towards his pecs. Geralt shuddered at the teasing drag of Jaskier’s calloused fingertips against his hypersensitive skin. “I thought you were a bard at first, you know. Perhaps I can make you sing for me after all.”

The witcher made a soft, strangled noise at the back of his throat. Jaskier basked in it. 

“Oh, my darling,” the Captain purred, leaning down to nip his captive lover’s collarbone. “What a concert it will be.”

Geralt whined and tilted his head back, offering Jaskier the skin of his long, pale neck. The Captain obliged, latching his teeth and lips to it over and over, leaving behind a trail of pink and purple bruises. 

Jaskier had learned early on, with no small level of satisfaction, that Geralt’s wolfy nature often meant that he liked to be marked and publicly acknowledged when _romantically involved_. He liked to be claimed by his partner; the pirate was more than happy to be said partner and spoil said kind-hearted witcher. 

The white-haired beauty was writhing beneath him now, hips bucking up and tilting forward in search of friction. Jaskier somehow managed to always stay an inch or so out of reach. It was infuriating and Geralt growled. “Jaskier, please!”

“Ah, ah,” the pirate tutted, wagging a finger at his darling Geralt, “That’s isn’t the proper form of address, is it?”

The witcher grimaced, knowing full well that this was a performance (he loved doing what Jaskier asked of him and loved the easy power his Captain wielded) and snarled lowly. “Touch me please, _Captain_.” 

“Much better,” Jaskier smirked, lowering his mouth to one of Geralt’s nipples and biting down. Geralt’s spine bowed upward as his breath was snatched from his lungs. The witcher only vaguely realized that his Captain’s clever fingers were removing the expensive silk pants from his legs inch by inch. His hard cock leapt free and jutted up against his hip. When Jaskier finally paused his ministrations against the witcher’s chest to look down at it he _licked his fucking lips._

Geralt’s head slammed back into the pillow at the sight of his Captain’s hungry expression. He had miscalculated. He’d made a terrible mistake. _He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive._

The witcher stifled a keening noise by biting his lip when he felt the tip of Jaskier’s tongue draw a wet line up the base of his cock, flicking just beneath the tip. Jaskier gave the head a few gentle kitten-licks before he leaned up and over Geralt once more. His eyes were dark and he smelled like _lust_ and _pine pitch_ and _Geralt_. 

The witcher was in heaven. 

“You’re so damn _beautiful_ ,” the younger man smiled softly. Kindly. Lovingly. “I’m going to make you feel so _good_.”

“ _I_ was supposed to be the one doing that,” Geralt pouted. “I got all dressed up and everything. I even smudged the kohl under my eyes so when they water it will run.”

“You _what_?” Jaskier gasped, dick twitching violently in his too-tight breeches. 

“I know you like it when my eyes get all watery after you kiss me hard. I can tell because you always tilt your head at me _just so._ I thought you might like it even more if they water and run when I suck your cock later. You can smudge my makeup with your fingers and mark me as yours again.”

Jaskier had to take a moment and rest his forehead against his lover’s chest. He took a deep, steadying breath. “You are _fucking_ _incredible_ and I am so glad I kidnapped you. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Oh you are very much forgiven, but only if you keep doing what you were just doing, Captain.”

The pirate didn’t hesitate to return to his previous course of action, licking at and sucking Geralt’s cock in ways that would have made a Cintran whore blush with shame. It didn’t take long for the witcher to reach his peak, shouting Jaskier’s name and arching his entire back and shoulders off the bed. Only the Captain’s strong arms around his thighs and hips kept Geralt from launching him across the room with the force of his shaking.

The bubbly young pirate had laughed after pulling off, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand with a smug smile.

Geralt looked absolutely fucked to pieces; his hair was sticking out all over the place, his pale skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his neck and chest were colored over with marks of varying shades, shapes, and sizes. 

“Thank you for that.”

“I should be thanking you,” Geralt somehow managed to wheeze. 

“You’ll get your chance to make it up to me. But for now,” the Captain grinned, resting his hands innocently atop Geralt’s heaving chest and glancing up at the witcher’s hands, which were still bound tightly above his head. “I don’t think I’m done playing with you, pet.”


End file.
